


because of you (my mind is always racing)

by projectoverlord



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Sex, Bruises, Consensual Kink, Dominance kink, Episode Related, M/M, Marking, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-01
Updated: 2014-05-01
Packaged: 2018-01-21 12:23:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1550321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/projectoverlord/pseuds/projectoverlord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grant can't sleep, not when he knows Garrett is on the plane with him.</p><p>SPOILERS for Captain America Winter Soldier, Agents of SHIELD</p>
            </blockquote>





	because of you (my mind is always racing)

**Author's Note:**

> Again, SPOILERS.
> 
> This is set prior to their arrival at the Guest House. I played with the timing a bit, that's all. For the purposes of this story, Skye is not dying nor injured at this point. 
> 
> These two are just too much fun to write.

Long after the others are all fast asleep in their bunks, Grant tosses and turns. He hadn't anticipated Garrett's arrival. Having the other man here, so close to him after all this time, still fucks with his head as much as it always has. It is as though, no matter where on the plane Garrett is, Grant can still feel him looming. In the years since Ward's ascension to specialist, his communications with Garrett have been limited to quick discussions about HYDRA's orders. That suited him just fine. It's easier that way. At least when Garrett isn't _there,_ Grant doesn't have to try to keep his hands to himself. Now they're in a plane at 30,000 feet, with nowhere to go to get away.

 

As far as he knows, John is at the other end of the plane, bunking down in Phil's office. It's hilarious to him how easily Coulson trusts his so-called friend and ally, but Coulson seems to only ever trust the wrong people. That is how Ward got here, after all. Two parts espionage, eight parts too goddamned easy.

 

He throws off his covers. It's too hot in his bunk. Stifling. He gets up, hits the door controls in frustration and peers outside.

 

The lights are dimmed for the night. With everyone out of sight, sleeping soundly, the Bus is eerily quiet. Grant can almost convince himself that it's just him up here, all alone in the sky. No one to fool, no one to lie to. No one to want but never have.

 

Tomorrow they'll arrive at the Guest House. Logically, he knows he should rest. Physically, he feels as though he could handle anything the mission throws at them. Garrett's always fuelled his adrenaline this way. In close quarters it's even stronger. He wants to hit something, even though his hands still ache from the fight with Triplett. Wants to hurt someone.

 

Needing more space, and not wanting to wake anyone, he heads downstairs to the hangar and sits down on the catwalk. The lab, beneath him, casts a soft glow over the two vehicles on the ramp.

 

He hears footsteps. Immediately his mind is at work, conjuring a story for why he's awake, why he's here. But when he looks up it is only Garrett - the one person who neither needs his stories nor believes them.

 

"Fancy meeting you here," his former SO says, leaning against the wall. "Been a while."

 

  
_Too long,_ Grant thinks, then immediately,  _not long enough_. He can't think with Garrett around. Never been able to balance between respect, duty and lust.

 

"Didn't expect you to show up here. Thought you were keeping your distance," he replies.

 

"Well, SHIELD says jump. They want Quinn off this plane. And if Phil's so keen to walk me hand in hand to this Guest House, who am I to say no?" Garrett says with a wicked grin. "Nice work laying out Triplett."

 

He flexes his fists, smirking. That had been one of the perks of the day. There'd been too much tension building up in his system. That he could take it out on his replacement in Garrett's life just sweetened the deal. And yeah, maybe he's a little jealous that someone else gets to walk into Garrett's life and settle down after he's gone.

 

"Enjoyed it, did you?" Garrett says, noticing the smirk. "Of course you did. I bet you were pissed when Coulson ordered you off him."

 

"I'm not the only one who enjoyed it," Grant bites back, remembering the way Garrett had appraised him. The way he'd scanned him head to toe, looking so damn pleased to find Grant with the upper hand.

 

"Hell, I'm not denying it. I just wish I'd been there for the whole show."

 

Grant stands and turns to Garrett. He's still wearing one of his godawful turtlenecks. Grant hates those things. The first time he'd seen the myriad of secrets hiding underneath them his interest had increased tenfold. Metal, scars, burns, bullet holes. All the things that make up John Garrett. The  _real_  John Garrett, the one who isn't afraid to get his hands bloody.

 

"Give the order and I'll give you an encore performance."

 

The other man chuckles. "Easy there, action man. You'll get your chance for some fun soon enough."

 

The way Garrett says fun sounds like a promise. Grant flexes his hands again, smiling wickedly. "Can't wait, sir."

 

Garrett's eyes gleam with something dark that Grant can almost imagine is want. But John only steps back and says, "Get some sleep. You're gonna need it."

 

Still caught on  _fun_ , and the images it conjures, Grant stands his ground. Defiantly, he crosses his arms. "I think I'll stay up a little longer. Need to work off some tension."

 

For a moment he thinks  _maybe_ , just maybe, Garrett will make a move. The look in the older man's eyes certainly suggests he's considering it. But in the end he only shrugs. "Suit yourself."

 

In a very deliberate move, he moves into Garrett's personal space. Close enough to smell the expensive cologne, feel the warmth of his body. One of his fingers trails down Garrett's side, along the metal, where he knows there is no feeling. Just to make Garrett wish he could feel it.

 

"Could use a hand, sir."

 

Garrett doesn't so much as flinch, but the look in his eyes gives him away. Grant's always been able to read him from his eyes alone.

 

"Just the one?" The tone is teasing, mocking, but Grant isn't dissuaded.

 

"Well, if you have more to offer," he says. "I'm sure I can handle whatever you've got."

 

There is a precise moment where he can see Garrett giving in. And then he's rammed into the wall. Garrett goes from a mile away to all over him in the space of a second. His hands roam along the younger man's sides. Grant rolls his hips, pressing against Garrett's hardness and smirking. One of John's legs nestle between his thighs, pinning Grant to the wall. He tries to gain the upper hand but Garrett slams him into the metal wall and looks at him with dark eyes.

 

  
_Fuck,_ Grant thinks, and says breathlessly, "Bunk."

 

Garrett pauses, moving back a little but using his knee and one hand to keep Grant pinned. His expression, mockingly, becomes one of intense contemplation. Finally, he breaks into a grin. Moving closer, he slips his hands under Grant's shirt. His fingers press bruises into the younger man's hips.

 

"I have a better idea."

 

He releases Grant, stepping back and gesturing towards the bunks with a flourish. Grant takes one half-conscious step towards Garrett, trying to regain any semblance of contact between them. But Garrett tuts and deftly avoids any touch.

 

Dutifully, he follows as John leads back into the heart of the Bus. Grant glances at the door to his bunk, and watches as they leave it behind. When Garrett's foot hits the first step, Grant's brain skids to a total halt - along with his feet.

 

"Coulson's  _office_ _?_ " He hisses, trying to keep his voice down.

 

Garrett grabs his hand and half-drags him up the stairs. Grant goes, albeit reluctantly. The moment they're inside, Garrett has him pressed against the closed door.

 

"John," he says, voice rough, and Garrett looms over him like a predator surveying its dinner. "Coulson is gonna know."

 

"I won't tell if you won't," Garrett growls in his ear, and half of Grant's brain short circuits.

 

The more rational part of Ward's mind, though, holds him back. He stills against Garrett. A battle rages in his thoughts. The older man immediately steps back, hands falling away from Grant and eyes studying him. "You say no and we stop."

 

Grant's surprise eclipses all else. That he's here at all, that Garrett cares about what he wants _._  


Leaning forward, he captures John's lips and kisses him. At first he expects to be pushed away, expects to be reminded he's just a fucktoy. But Garrett surges into to the kiss, responding with equal enthusiasm.

 

When they break apart, the smile on Garrett's face makes Grant forget every single hesitation. He goes willingly as Garrett leads him to the couch. Reaching into a bag, John retrieves a small foil packet and a bottle.

 

"You bought  _supplies_?" Grant says incredulously, then adds, "For  _who?_ "

 

"For us, of course," Garrett replies, as though it should be obvious. Grant is about to say something but the turtleneck is removed and discarded and suddenly he's a little preoccupied trying to touch every inch of skin and metal at once.

 

It takes no time at all to remove the remaining clothing, and Garrett lowers himself onto the couch, pulling Ward with him. Grant settles in his lap, his hands wandering over Garrett's bare torso as they kiss.

 

Garrett slicks his fingers while Grant tears open the condom packet. He arches against Garrett, growling into the kiss as the first two fingers slide in. Moving his hand between them, he grasps the other man's dick and matches the pace of Garrett's fingers.

 

When the next finger is added, Grant's hand stutters and pauses in place. The pleasure quickly outweighs the discomfort, and he moans against John's lips. A hand comes up to his neck, thumb caressing his jaw. He grasps Garrett's wrists, eyes rolling back as the fingers in his ass scissor slightly.

 

"How long I've waited to see that look on your face," Garrett muses.

 

Grant meets the gaze levelled at him. His cheeks are flushed, pupils blown. Garrett looks less ravished, but he radiates lust with every breath. 

 

"If you wanted to-" Grant starts, but his voice is stolen as Garrett pushes a fourth finger in. " _Fuck._ If you wanted to see me like this, you could've fucking said so,  _sir_."

 

With a little chuckle, Garrett leans in and kisses him. At the same moment, he removes his fingers and pulls Grant down in one swift movement. Grant arches, swearing and stilling against him. Garrett pauses, buried within the younger man's body.

 

"Fucking  _move_ ," Grant snaps, out of breath and out of patience. His fingers curl tighter around Garrett's wrist. 

 

Using his other hand, Garrett grasps Ward's hips and lifts him. Smiling wickedly, he pulls him back down.

 

Ward's thoughts turn white, blissfully empty. He moves as Garrett allows him to, hands on his hips guiding him at every moment. Controlling him.

 

The pace becomes faster, and he holds tight to Garrett to keep steady. 

 

" _Grant,_ " John growls. Grant stills, feeling the way Garrett's body tenses and then relaxes in the wake of his orgasm. Grant is so close, so near the edge that he has one foot over the line. John's hands sweep up his sides and pull him down. The moment he's fully seated, Grant lets out a hiss and comes. Everything goes blank, quiet, and he can feel nothing but the way Garrett is with him, touching him, bruising him with an iron grip.

 

Later, when he starts to regain his senses, Garrett is cleaning up and swaggering around the office like he owns it. The dim light from the screens makes the metal in him gleam. Grant finds it alluring, always has. There's something about knowing that Garrett is only part human. It makes him fascinating.

 

"Did I ever t-"

 

Grant cuts him off, "If you start telling stories right now, I will shoot you in the knee."

 

Garrett just grins at him. "Touchy." 

 

Returning to the couch, he sits down and pulls Grant back into his lap. His hands brush the bruises that are already purpling on the agent's sides, looking pleased with himself.

 

"If Coulson finds out about this he will throw us off the plane, you know that right?"

 

"Well then," Garrett says, eyes filled with amusement, "I guess we should make the most of it."

 

"You sure you don't need another minute, sir?"

 

Garrett shoves him to his feet, following with a simmering anger that manifests in the roughness of his hands. In half a second Grant finds himself pressed against the desk, a hand clamped around his throat from behind. He reaches up, gripping Garrett's wrist. The roughness sends a spark of pleasure up through Ward, and he presses back against the other man. He can feel the contrast of skin and metal, the way one side of Garrett is heated and the other cold against him. The sensation is intoxicating, and he reaches back to run his hand along the metal.

 

"Hands on the desk," Garrett orders, releasing his throat. " _Hands on the desk_."

 

Leaning forward, Grant curls his fingers around the lip of the desk. Garrett thrusts into him, a perfect combination of rough but gentle. Knuckles turning white, the younger man stifles a moan. Every movement hits his prostate, sending waves of pleasure through every inch of his body.

 

He hears cursing, desperate  _fucks_  said under breath, and belatedly Grant realises they are his own words. Garrett leans over him, one hand sliding across his skin and wrapping around his dick. Lips close over the side of his neck, leaving savage marks in their wake. Garrett claims him, marks him, leaves proof of what they're doing written on his skin. The thought of having this, these bruises, only serves to bring him closer to his peak.

 

With one last thrust, they both come.

 

Garrett leads him back to the couch, lying back and letting Grant settle in next to him. "So, Agent Ward, think you've worked off all that tension?"

 

Musing on this, Grant leans in and kisses the senior agent. When he pulls away, he says, "For now."

 

"Get some sleep. Tomorrow is an important day."

 

"Yes, sir," Grant says, his eyes already beginning to fall closed.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading.


End file.
